


no friends closer than the ones we've lost

by horreurs



Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Canon Compliant, Gen, Heavy Angst, all i can do is apologise for this
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-24
Updated: 2019-03-24
Packaged: 2019-12-06 19:21:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 451
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18224372
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/horreurs/pseuds/horreurs
Summary: grieving is a long and arduous task. it is something erwin can't allow himself to do, not when there are still so many troops to rally before sending them to their inevitable deaths.





	no friends closer than the ones we've lost

**Author's Note:**

> i just love writing about this big blonde's pain, what can i say.  
> title is from the mountain goats' no rain in soho which is, coincidentally, a big erwin song. if you wanna talk about sad erwin times, hmu on twitter @horruers.  
> enjoy this sad old man being sad.

Erwin Smith didn’t cry.

Not when his father’s casket was lowered into the ground, accompanied by the sympathetic whispers of guests questioning how he was holding up, what he would do.

Not when they had returned from yet another failed expedition. Grieving families would shout their disappointment and lack of faith in the capability of the Survey Corps. Not when a distraught mother clutched at the bloodstained cape that hung around his shoulders like a noose, demanding to know why he let her son die. Oh, he was so young! He had the rest of his life ahead of him!

( _He dedicated his heart to you, Erwin. He died because of you_.)

There would be times when Erwin would excuse himself from meetings, voice weary and strained. He would feign a headache or a sudden wave of exhaustion and quickly retire to his study.

Only then would he cry.

It never happened gracefully. The grief would claw its way out from the deepest depths of his sorrows, crawling out of his throat in the form of a choked sob. His chest would tighten, as if it were about to burst.

( _A fitting end for a man with no heart, no humanity._ )

His knees would buckle, straining beneath the weight of such a heavy burden. He would begin to feel nauseous, a once bright mind racing with the sound of the fallen's cries of pain as they were savagely ripped apart, entrails and limbs falling to the ground.

By the time he reached his desk, the shaking would reach an almost unbearable peak. Supporting his own weight soon became impossible.

The sobs would sound inhuman. Weak, fragile, broken noises that seemed to echo throughout the room, surrounding him with his own sadness until it suffocated him.

No amount of regret would ever bring back the dead. Their graves already served as a painful reminder of what was to come. The role of commander was not a peaceful one. Every day, Erwin would have to make sacrifices. Some hurt more than others.

Their blood still stained his hands. Their screams waking him suddenly in the middle of the night. The glares of inconsolable family members, cursing his very existence, wishing that death would cast its unforgiving gaze over him for once.

The debts he owed were insurmountable. Not even in death, in the very depths of hell where a monster such as himself deserved to reside, would he be able to repay those that sacrificed themselves for his vision.

He would cry until his body ached, his heart shredded to tatters as what remained of his resolve cracked to reveal the heartless, selfish creature he had become.

Only then would Erwin Smith cry. 


End file.
